ON St. Benedict's Quay, at Amsterdam, dwelt a merchant named Nicholas Flunk, who was one of the most rapacious old misers that Fortune ever took a pleasure in heaping her favours upon. All his speculations turned out prosperously; he made cent. per cent. by his loans, and much more by his bargains; so that, after a time, the care of keeping his wealth became as great to him as earning it is to other people. At the same time, his love of money suffered no diminution; but, as if increase of appetite had grown by what it fed on,' his desire to add to his hoard was the sole passion of his heart.

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He had a daughter who was extremely beautiful, and as amiable and gentle as she was fair. She had none of her father's love of money, for, happily for the human race, vices and follies are not hereditary. VOL. 1. Jan 1829.

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A young Dutchman, who had studied painting in Italy, and who had returned to Amsterdam to practise his art, lodged in the attic of a house next to that of the rich merchant; for Flunk had never chosen to remove, notwithstanding his princely wealth, from the humble house in which he had begun the world. Clement Branz was as poor as Nicholas was rich, and it was as easy for him to fall in love with the pretty Barbara Flunk, as it was to her father to get money. Clement soon found an opportunity of telling Barbara of the impression she had made upon his heart, and had the good fortune to inspire her with similar feelings. He ventured (for love will make a man venture upon any thing) to tell her father of his passion, and to ask his consent to their union. Nicholas asked of what his proposed son-in-law's means consisted; and when he learnt that a few portfolios, filled with drawings from the works of the masters of Italy, some sketcheswhich nobody but the painter himself could understand-a palette, some pencils, and some colours, constituted his whole worldly possessions, he laughed in his face, and bade him think no more of his daughter, whom he intended for an eminent pork-butcher, who lived on the side of the Quay; for Flunk was not desirous of marrying his daughter to a person of condition, because he knew that he should then be obliged to part with some of his beloved gold as her dowry..

Clement went away in despair, and mounted with a heavy heart to his garret, wondering, as he went, whether it was better to drown himself in the canal, or to finish a picture he had begun, with the intention of offering it for sale at a convent of Carmelite nuns, who had just built a new chapel. On arriving at his solitary painting-room-which was also his bed-room and drawing-room, study, parlour, and kitchen-he found a fellow student, Olivier Villeneuf, a Frenchman, who had been with him in Italy, and who had now found him out in Amsterdam. Olivier was one of those lighthearted, sanguine people, whose spirits always flow in the same full tide. He saw his friend was melancholy,

soon learnt why, scolded him for yielding to his disappointment, and bade him think rather of some means of outwitting the old fellow, and of at once gaining his mistress's hand, and some of her father's wealth. Clement was soon cheered by Olivier's counsel, contrived to see his mistress as she went to morning mass, and, with the help of Olivier, they laid a plan for cozening Nicholas.

Flunk kept the most valuable part of his treasures in an immense chest in the top room of his house, because he thought that was the least accessible to thieves. The windows were boarded and barred up, the doors locked and bolted, and the heavy chest as firmly fastened as padlocks and clamps, and all the art of the blacksmith, could make it. Barbara having told them this, Olivier's fertile genius suggested a means of effecting his plans. He was a fellow of infinite whim and humour, and of rare and varied talent. He could paint, sing, and fight, and was so good a comedian that he acted his way half through Italy; and had once collected money enough to maintain himself and his companions for a week, by means of a sermon which he preached at Naples, on St. Januarius's Day, in the character of a Dominican friar. He was now about to assume a new character.

On the following morning he presented himself at the door of Nicholas Flunk, in a garb so strange, and with an appearance so changed, that his own mother could not have known him. An Armenian habit, reaching to his heels, concealed his figure; a beard, somewhat grizzled, and very ample, hid half his face; and a high cap, which reached to his eyebrows, altered the expression of the rest. He requested a private interview with Flunk, and when he had, with some difficulty, obtained it, told him that he was an adept in the wonderful science of transmuting metals; and that hearing of Flunk's wealth, he believed he possessed the same secret. Old Nicholas listened with devouring attention to what the supposed Armenian said; assured

him that he did not know, but was desirous of learning, that precious art, and besought him to communicate it, offering him, at the same time, high rewards. Olivier told him it was a secret not to be bought with money, nor to be learnt by any human art; but that it depended wholly upon a certain aptness of the human body, a sympathy with the essence which makes gold out of viler metals, and which few persons had. Having said enough to excite the curiosity of his dupe, and having impressed him with a great notion of his gravity and sanctity, he took his leave for the present.

Olivier then returned to Clement's garret, and set himself about assisting in the other part of the scheme, and in which bis ingenuity and mechanical skill were mainly serviceable. After a few days had elapsed, in which he let the old miser's curiosity raise itself sufficiently high, he again called upon him. Nicholas had pondered over all that he had said in the meantime, and had sought in the works of Raimond Lully, which had long been his favourite study, for some explanation of the wonderful hints he had given him. Olivier found him more than half prepared for the wonders he had to tell him. With an abundance of hard words, and in that mystical jargon which was spoken by the adepts of the wonderful science, and which had really no meaning, he told him that he would show him the art of which he was a possessor. Nicholas introduced him to a private room, where a fire being lighted, Olivier melted a small quantity of lead, which he afterwards enclosed in a metal box, the outside of which was marked with cabalistical characters. He then ordered Nicholas to fall upon his knees, and repeat certain prayers which he recited. The old man did as he was bid, and Olivier, putting the box upon the ground, seated himself on it, and, with the oddest grimaces possible, kept Nicholas in an extasy of admiration. When he had amused himself as long as he chose, he rose and bade him open the box. He did so, and, instead of the small piece of lead which had been put into it, he found a piece of gold of about the size